


Don't Talk About It

by Plutonic_5



Series: Let Me Take You On A Ride [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Blowjobs, Bottom!Jack, Bulying, Busted, Cigarettes, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Cookies, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Disrespectful Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fainting, First Aid, Flashbacks, Force Choking, Forced Drinking, Gang Confrontation, Hangover, Headspace, I mean kind of, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Insecurity, Intimidation, Knife Kink, Knives, M/M, Nosebleed, Pain, Panic, Panic Attacks, Plant talk, Platonic Cuddling, Protected Sex, Safewords, Self Confidence Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Overload, Social Anxiety, Stabbing, Stitching, Teasing, Vomiting, Weapons, punches, social pressure, top!anti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plutonic_5/pseuds/Plutonic_5
Summary: "Anti’s mind stirs awake with the feeling of fingers running gently across his scalp. He makes a quiet, content noise, and nuzzles against warm, bare skin. Jack. He tightens his hold around the man’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat."





	Don't Talk About It

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Punchbag Heartbeat.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617805)
> 
> Me and [@Trashcansasha](https://trashcansasha.tumblr.com/) are back with another angsty shot, the last one got amazing responses, so thank you so much!

Anti’s mind stirs awake with the feeling of fingers running gently across his scalp. He makes a quiet, content noise, and nuzzles against warm, bare skin. _Jack._ He tightens his hold around the man’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

It was one of many lazy mornings, where Jack didn’t have to open the shop early, and both men could enjoy their time together snuggled up in bed. They were in a tangle of limbs, Anti sleeping on top of him, the only sounds being their breaths, the far away tweets of birds outside, and the tick-tock of the clock.

They had been spending most of their time inside Jack’s apartment these days. After their fight weeks ago, Jack had refused to let Anti sleep in his little shithole of an apartment, officializing his role as a housemate. That made Anti  feel… safe. _Feeling safe is dangerous_ , he kept telling himself anyway, _you’re making a mistake_.

Anti presses his lips on Jack’s skin, and breathes in his scent. His presence as  grounding as ever. It helped his mind to quiet down for a bit, which he definitely appreciated.

He had been so tired lately. Tired of having two halves, of dealing with so much doubt. Now that he knew _love_ , he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want ro leave. He didn’t want to go back to his gang, assault some banks, and move on to the next town as he always did. He never had wanted that in the first place, and now he felt like he had the chance to get out of his own mess.

It wasn’t that easy, though. It never is. The Pack would never understand. He was as much of a leader as a prisoner to them, and that’s how things worked. They were getting impatient— not that they ever had much patience to begin with— and suspicious. What would he even say? _Hey, I know I’ve been in the Pack for about 8 years, and ‘been leading y'all for about 4, but now I’ve found a place where I feel safe and not like I’m about to combust every 5 seconds, so… yeah, bye!_ He scoffs at himself. _God dammit._ He feels a light knock on his temple.

“It’s too early to be so lost in there,” Jack says quietly. Anti sighs.

“Get out of my head,” he mumbles.

“Then how am I supposed to get you out of it?”

Anti smirks. “I can think of a few ways.”

Jack gently smacks him in the head. Anti rolls his eyes and lazily props himself up on his elbow, scooting up to Jack's eye level. Their noses brush, green eyes meeting blue ones. Jack’s hand cups Anti’s cheek, and they look at each other in silence for a moment. Breathing, communicating. _Everything is fine._

Jack caresses his cheek with his thumb. “ _You okay?_ ”

Anti nods slightly. “ _Yeah._ ”

Anti was the first to break the stillness, as he lowered his head down to connect their lips. Their mouths parted, tongues caressing one another, dancing, moving in sync as they breathed. Whenever Anti kissed Jack, time seemed so... unimportant. The outside world just a far away reality; all that mattered was his taste, his smell, his touch. He could feel his grasp on the back of his hair, and his other hand moving down his bare chest. Anti’s own fingers were also exploring, kneading Jack’s waist, his other thumb brushing against his nipple. They were fondling, and humming, and most importantly, in peace. Happy. _How long could that last?_

“Morning, love birds!” A sudden voice shouted. Both men yelped.

“For fuck's sake, Robin,” Jack groaned. Anti sighed, faceplanting on the man’s chest again.

“It’s like you guys never leave your burrow anymore,” Robin said, unfazed.

Robin was the first of Jack’s friends to trust Anti from the get go. Anti used to be wary of him, but now they were almost… friends, too. He huffed. _Friends. How weird is that?_

“Give me _one_ reason that could be possibly worth of leaving this bed,” Jack mumbled, playing with Anti’s untamed green curls.

“Having a _life_ , maybe?”

“I’m a simple man. I don’t need much.”

Robin gave him a deadpan look. Anti snorted.

“How come you always get inside like that? We could’ve been doing… other things,” Anti objected.

“I’d have heard you,” Robin smirked.

“No, you wouldn’t!” Jack scoffed.

“You guys aren’t the most quiet when it comes to-”

“We get it, Robin!” Jack exclaimed, embarrassed. The light-haired man chuckled.

“Come on, we have patrolling today,” Robin said, and everyone could feel the slight tense silence that followed.

Anti knew they were all trying to ignore the fact that he was the leader of a very dangerous gang, and that said gang was right around the corner in town. Patrolling night meant Anti couldn’t really run away from them. He’d have to spend the night with the Pack. He sighed, disengaging from Jack.

“Yeah, I know,” Jack said, and they both looked apologetic. Anti gave them a halfhearted smile.

Said smile faded quickly during the day, as he got outside to meet up with his group. He could see some men smoking cigarettes and throwing glass bottles across the pavement. Anti sneered, fixing his confident posture and voiding his face of all emotion.

“How have you assholes been holdin' up?” He asked in a monotonous tone.

One of them— he had a dirty black beard, and wore a red bandana around his neck— spat the rest of his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.

“This town is boring. What kind of deals take this long to make, eh? You said you were onto some good stuff.”

Anti winced inwardly. He didn’t know how long he could keep the drug excuse up.

“I’m being careful to not get caught by a bunch of policemen. I dunno about you, but I don’t fancy jail much,” he snarked back. The man grumbled.

“Chill out, Lucky. Can’t ya see boss got a bitch for himself?” Another man imputed. He had mean eyebrows and a buzzcut— that was Digger, the one who usually dealt with leftover bodies on more… complex missions.

Anti grimaced. He hated how they talked about Jack that way. Jack wasn’t just _a bitch_ for him. No one should be labeled as that.

_“Nice bitch you got here.”_

_“Boss, give the breeding bitch a break, you got business men to meet.”_

Anti blinked the memories away. _Stop it_ , he chided himself. If the gang saw his “business” like that, at least he had an excuse. That had to do. He smirked, motion forced on his features.

“You think you could do the job any faster?” He asked in a light tone.

“Well-”

Before Digger could finish, Anti gripped the front on his dirty shirt and slammed his back against a wall harshly. Everyone went dead quiet. The green-haired man leaned closer to his ear, and spoke in a low, threatening voice.

“I’d like to see you _try_ ,” he growled. “Don’t question me again.”

Digger nodded slowly, and was released with a shove.

“Now,” Anti said, as nothing had happened, “we’re gonna have the Patrol out tonight. You guys can have a chat with them, spend some of that sharp tongue of yours with them, maybe get your asses kicked, I don’t care. Just get ready, and no weapons.”

“Why not?” Lucky voiced, Anti’s glare making him wince slightly. “Uh, why not, s-sir?”

“If y'all gonna fight, it’s gonna be with your own filthy hands, like men.”

“Fine,” a few of them grumbled.

Anti sighed to himself. _Right. At least they’re not gonna kill any of Jack’s friends._ He smirked. His men being scared of him was very useful sometimes. Not that Anti particularly liked being feared, but with those people, it was the only way he got any respect. He worked hard to get where he was.

He kicked an abandoned flask on the floor. “And clean up, or are y'all a bunch of pigs?”

The men rolled their eyes.

 

Night came sooner than anyone would’ve liked. Jack put his leather jacket on, got on his motorbike, and sighed. Anti had been out all day today; he had to. And now he had to confront his gang again. He looked to the side, where Robin was getting ready on his own bike as well.

“How prepared should we be?” The man asked him.

Jack thought about it for a second. “I don’t think Anti would allow them guns, for our sake.”

Robin nodded. “Knives?”

“Maybe.”

They got to the boarders of town, along with the rest of the Patrol men, and parked their vehicles near a wall. Jack was dusting  off his jacket when he heard foreign steps coming from out of town. He looked up.

There were about 12 men, whose the Patrol —and the whole world— were so wary of. Anti had told him that there was never the same number of members, though. Some come on and off, some get killed on the “job”. But right now, 6 men were on each side of Anti, who looked like a completely different person to him. Just like the first day they met.

He got an air of arrogance about him, chin up, hands in his jacket pockets. His steps were firm, and his eyes looked sharp. The new leader of the Pack.

As they got closer though, he could see the slight falter in those green eyes. _There’s my Anti._ _He’d never hurt me, right?_ He thought to himself. _He is just playing his part._

A whistle interrupted his thoughts.

“Damn, boss. I hadn’t got the chance to look at him properly. Nice catch,” a man with a red bandana around his neck said to Anti, his brown eyes looking Jack’s body up and down. He swallowed a grimace.

Anti looked extremely uncomfortable, but only if you really paid attention to it. The green-haired man rolled his eyes nonchalantly.

“I wouldn’t waste my time with any less,” he said. His tone quiet, and quite bored. Jack felt a pang on his chest. The men around Anti chuckled between themselves.

Robin took a step forward, holding a protective stance right beside him, and his other men were looking at the Pack very intently.

“Why are you all still here?” Ken— his friend, the town bakery owner and loyal friend— spoke up behind him. Anti’s men shrugged.

“Why don'tcha ask your piece of cake here? He and boss seem to have something on the works,” a man with a buzzcut and bushy eyebrows said next.

Anti was quick to answer. “That’s not relevant right now.”

“Right,” a Pack member with large gauges on his ears and a red mohawk drawled, taking a pocket knife out of his pocket calmly. The Patrol tensed, ready to defend.

“Now, now,” Anti chided smoothly, taking out a knife himself from the back of his boot. “What did I say about weapons?”

The mohawk man smirked, inspecting his blade pensively. The whole Pack moved, each with their own knives, some with bats with shards of glass stuck to it. The Patrol got ready themselves with their own fists, Ken with his own blade, the rest with their weapon of choice. No bullets in sight on either side.

“What did I say about fighting like men?” Anti mused to his men, thumping the sharpness of his knife. The men snorted. “Bunch of coward dogs,” he sighed, indifferent.

“How harsh,” a Pack member with tattoos all over his face mocked. “A man is never too proud to use his own blade.”

“Whatever,” Anti mumbled. There was a tense pause. “Go on.”

All hell breaks loose. The Pack pounces with practiced attacks, and Jack freezes for a moment. _How could he? Was Anti planning this all along? Will they try to take this town?_

His train of panic was cut by a cold blade on his neck. He sulked in a breath.

“They’re not gonna kill anyone. I promise,” a voice whispered on his ear. _Anti_. He sighed in relief.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He whispered back.

“They need distraction, to cause some trouble. Let them have their fun.”

Jack considered this. The Patrol seemed to be keeping everything under control. The Pack were laughing and pouncing, and his friends were dodging the attacks pretty well.  Robin glanced at him with a worried expression, eyes looking between his own and the blade on his neck. Jack nodded slightly to him, and he seemed to relax a bit.

“Okay.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Anti said, pulling Jack back gently, knife never leaving his throat. He swallowed.

 _“Are you sure you can trust him?”_ Signe’s voice echoed on his head as he was led away from the mess.

They reach the street corner, Anti’s back against a cemented wall, warm breath on his neck. He shudders.

“I think we’re clear,” Anti says quietly, lowering his knife and stepping aside.

Jack rubs his neck self-consciously.

“I’m sorry,” Anti says, eyes not meeting his.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

Jack shrugs. “You didn’t hurt me.” _Yet_ was left unsaid.

“I wouldn’t have,” Anti blurts, worried green eyes wide.

Jack sighs. He believes him. He gets closer to him until their noses touch, and they breathe together.

“What will they think of us not being there?” Jack asked, worried about the Pack.

“They think I might be threatening you, or something,” Anti said, raising his knife to Jack’s neck gently to prove his point. A shudder of adrenalin and arousal shot through his body. Anti should terrify him at this point, but he just doesn’t. It’s like his green eyes were constantly reassuring him of his safety. Constantly reminding him that the wolf behind the sharp claws trembles upon their prey.

“I don’t think you look very threatening,” Jack teased. He was lying, of course. Anti looked terrifying.

Anti smirks. “We’ll see about that.”

Their lips meet, and for a moment, Jack forgets about the knife, the doubts. Anti’s taste like a numbing aphrodisiac almost. Their tongues dance, brushing lightly at each other, then searching, licking, _devouring_. Jack’s breath gets caught on his throat as he feels the cold blade against his skin, and he swallows. Anti pushes him gently until his back touches the dirty wall, and they kiss each other fervently, the knife being a reminder to not move much.

He moans when Anti pressed his knee up his crotch, and when they part, green eyes are looking intently at him. The pressure of the knife weakens, leaving his skin briefly.

“I don’t want to ever scare you. I’m sorry.”

Jacks chest swells. “I’m not scared,” he said. And he wasn’t. Anti _looked_ scary, and he might have doubts sometimes, but with intimacy, fear was never an option for either of them.

“Should I drop it?” Anti breathes, glancing at the blade.

“No. Just be careful.”

They both share a timid smile, and the knife is back against his Adam’s apple.

“Safeword?” Anti says, thumb touching Jack’s lips. Jack smirks.

“ _Burdock_.”

“ _The plant thing,_ ” They both say at the same time, and they giggle.

Anti’s hand moves to Jack’s zipper, opening it and pushing his pants down to his thighs. He then opens his own, and fishes his half-hard cock out. Jack twitches in interest.

“Turn back,” Anti rumbles.

“Make me.”

The green-haired man grins, forcing the cutting edge, nicking a thin line on his neck. “ _Turn. Back._ ” He growls.

Jack takes a shuddering breath, and turns slowly, propping his hands on the wall now in front of him.

“ _Right pocket,_ ” he mutters.

Anti takes a condom on his right pocket and puts it on himself after giving his cock a few strokes. He smears his fingers with lube from the tiny bottle also found inside Jack’s jacket. He was always prepared, after all.

“Arch.”

 Jack defyingly doesn’t move. He hears a huff on his ear. The blade forces his neck back, Anti’s hand pressing his tailbone down. He’s held in a perfect arch, Anti’s mouth on his ear.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

A finger circles his hole teasingly before going inside of him, almost immediately moving around, in and out. Jack groans throatily against the cold knife.

Anti adds one more, than two, and Jack is fucked gently with three fingers, being scissored open. The stretch burning pleasantly and leaving him wanting more. He needed more.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jack moans.

The fingers leave him, and he misses the pressure immensely, but before he could even whine about it, a cock is pushed inside of him until the hilt. They stop to breathe. Anti moves the knife in a weak cutting motion then locks it in place in the middle of his throat. He feels a slight tremble on Anti’s hold.

 _His scar,_ he recalls, _maybe this is too much._ But once again, as he was about to ask if Anti was okay, the thrusts start at full force, ripping out a shout from Jack’s throat. Anti covers his mouth with his other hand quickly.

“If you n-need to stop,” Anti pants, “lick my palm.” Jack nods, reassured. He was in control. His shoulders relax.

Anti pounds into him, knife just placed against his skin without pressing in, and he’s fucked into oblivion. His breath comes out of his nose in strained puffs, and he drowns on the sound of Anti’s moans on his ear. His thrusts are systematic and strong, hitting his spot continuously until he sees white.

“ _Mh! Mhm! Mhm!_ ” He whimpers against Anti’s hand, eyes rolling back inside his head.

He hears a faint movement behind them, but ignores it.

Anti moves the knife away, dropping it to the floor and holding his neck with his hand instead.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groans. _Right._ Coming with a sharp object in hands wasn’t the smartest decision _. He’s protecting me._

His chest fills with affection for the man who’s almost splitting his hole open, and as he feels warmth inside of him, he releases with a heartfelt groan, eyes fluttering closed.

Anti stills after a few more thrusts, and frees Jack’s mouth, the hand holding his neck weakening its hold to a gentle support. Jack sags against him, back to his chest.

“Our groups are killing each other, and we just fucked in a street corner,” Jack mumbles. Anti snorts softly.

“They’re fine,” he pulls out slowly, Jack winces slightly. He ties the condom and throws it… somewhere, then fixes his and Jack’s pants up.

The green-haired man holds him to his chest, and they breathe.  He peppers soft kisses along Jack’s jaw, the thin nick on his throat, his ear, his lips. Jack melts.

After a few minutes, when he’s almost falling asleep standing up, Anti nudges him with his nose gently.

“Can we go home now?” He asks. Jack is filled with tenderness upon hearing those words. _His home is with me. He wants to stay with me._

“Yeah, we can.”

They part lowly, and go back to the “warzone” they had left god-knows how long ago. The Patrol is chatting quietly between themselves. There are a few weapons on the floor, some drops of blood here and there, and the Pack is gone.

“They said you’d ‘take your time with Jack’, so they left,” Robin said upon seeing them.

“Fair enough,” Anti answered.

“You guys alright?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “A knife, _really_?” Ken said. Jack’s ears burned.

“Fuck off, Ken,” he grumbled, and the man chuckled.

Robin patted Anti’s back. “Come on, you two look like shit.”

“You know what we were up to. What’s _your_ excuse?” Anti teased, smiling.

Robin flipped him off. They laughed.

 

The next day, Anti walked by the town bakery, since Jack had told him one of the Patrol members was its owner, and he was curious to see him. It was always odd to see how… normal the lives of those people were. How Jack worked in a flowershop, and Robin was a tech-man with his own shop, too. And now this _Ken_ guy was a baker? He shook his head. _Weird_.

He got inside the place. It was quite large, with a couple of tables and chair for those who wanted to eat there, a long balcony with bread, cakes, and other delicious goodies inside clean glass showcases. His mouth watered. It was about lunchtime, and he’d meet up with Jack in a bit to get lunch with him. He was so hungry.

“Y'know, Robin said you were also gazing at nothing in front of his workplace once. Is that your thing?” A voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He blinked at the man in front of him.

He had wide shoulders, and a bulkier frame than most. Definition of a “dad body”, which was ironic, because Jack had told him he actually has a wife and kid. His face was shaved, but he could tell the man had a _lot_ of dark hair; all over his arms, legs, probably chest too. His brown eyes matched his brown hair, and he wore an apron full of smudges of flour. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had flour _everywhere_.

The man seemed to notice his mental question, and chuckled before clapping him— quite strongly— on the back. He coughed.

“A new bag of flour just snapped all over my storage room!” He exclaimed.

“Oh, uh- I’m sorry to… hear that,” Anti said awkwardly.

Ken shook his head with a smile. “Shit happens, man.”

His stomach growled, ears burning in embarrassment. Ken smirked.

“Let’s get ya something to eat, son.”

“Oh, no, no, I was actually about to leave and-” Anti blurted, already being dragged to one of the tables in the bakery.

“Nonsense!” The man said, clapping him again in the back and giving him a paper bag full of something that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Anti made a confused sound, and peaked inside of it shyly. _Cookies_. He liked his lips as his eyes widened. He hadn’t eaten cookies in so long.

He took a deep breath, and tried to give the bag back. “Thank you but-uh- I got no money to-”

“It’s on the house, don’t even worry about it.” Ken winked. “Well, now I gotta deal with… this,” he gestured to all the flour on his face and clothes, “see you around, boy!”

The man left chuckling around, and Anti held the bag of cookies on his chest like a kid would with a teddy bear. His eyes fluttered closed with the _amazing_ smell, and he left the bakery to meet up with Jack.

On the way to the flowershop, he walked by Robin’s workplace.

“Dude, I could recognize this smell miles away,” Robin called, “are those Ken's cookies?”

Anti nodded, trying not to sound too excited and failing miserably as words just spilled out of his mouth. “He gave them to me!”

Robin raised his eyebrows. “He must like you, then!”

Anti felt his cheeks heat up. “I-uh- I was just passing through.”

“Uh-huh,” Robin dismissed, then looked at his wristwatch. “Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Jack today?”

“How do you-” he glanced at the other side of the street, where the flowershop was. “Yeah, I’m on my way. Uh- see you?”

Robin waved. Anti went along his path.

Arriving at the shop, he sat down on the little table in front of it with two chairs and sat down in one of them.

“Hi _Cholla!_ ” A happy voice greeted.

Anti rolled his eyes. _Stupid nickname._

“Hi flower boy,” he greeted back as Jack sat down in front of him. “You seem cheerful.”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “We got new plants arriving today, so that’s exciting!”

Anti huffed. “I guess it is.”

“What'chu got there?” He eyed Anti’s bag.

“That Ken friend of yours gave me cookies,” he grinned. Jack beamed.

“So _that’s_ why you got a smile on your face.”

Anti scoffed. “You say it as if I walked around mopping all day.”

Jack nodded. “You do.”

He scowled. Which got Jack to giggle. “See!”

The green-haired man rolled his eyes with a playful smile. “Fine.”

They both ate the cookies for lunch together, talking back and fourth about plants and a few videogames. Anti had officially taken over the playing station on Jack’s living room.

He looked at Jack’s mouth as he chatted about his plants, so much enthusiasm over them. It was adorable. His eyes traveled to his throat, where he could faintly see a thin red line from the night before. He bit back a grin. It was a bit weird, if Anti was honest, considering he had a scar on his neck himself that he was always hiding under his choker, playing with a knife on his lover's neck should’ve been at least a bit triggering.

And it was. He was scared, the night before. Scared he’d freak out, or that Jack would be scared of him. He’d never had proceeded with anything if he had said no, of course. That wasn’t how things worked. Their sexual activities so far had been always based on very explicit consent, and that made Anti realize what consent actually… meant. Sex was supposed to be enjoyed by _all_ the parties involved. That made him realize a lot of things, and how wrong his first experiences were.

Jack was talking about the new _Sweet Williams_ that had arrived in the shop when Anti’s gaze moved to his arms and cheeks, and there seemed to be various thin cuts all over him. He frowned.

“Where did those come from?” He asked, gesturing at Jack’s arms and face.

Jack raised his eyebrows and looked at his arms, as if only noticing the little injuries now. He then scowled.

“Constance.”

Anti blinked. “What?”

Jack sighed. “You see that rose bush?” He gestured to something behind the green-haired man.

He turned around to look. On the side of the shop, there was a big, long rose bush that seemed to frame the whole perimeter. The roses on it were soft pink, and quite honestly, very pretty. He nodded.

“ _That’s_ Constance. She doesn’t agree with me much.”

“You got… attacked by a rose bush?”

“We have our moments,” Jack said with a totally serious face. They both burst into giggles.

He sighed. Today had been a great day. He wished all days were like this.

 

The rest of the week was uneventful. Jack woke up every day with a warm body pressing against his chest, went to work on his shop, had company at lunch, then went back home to play videogames, watch a movie, or just cuddle in the sofa. He sighed happily. _Maybe that’s what I needed all along._ He didn’t feel empty with Anti. He felt… complete. Whole. Happy.

He carded his fingers through the green-haired man’s messy curls. They were waiting for dinner to be ready, snuggled up in the sofa. Anti was distractedly fiddling with a magic cube Jack had found on the man’s jacket the other day. When asked about it, Anti just shrugged, saying it was something to keep his fiddly fingers busy.

“Can you get the whole cube done?” He asked lightly.

Anti hummed. “Yeah, it’s not that hard.”

He rolled his eyes. “Or _maybe_ you’re just very smart.”

Anti’s cheeks went pink as he scowled. Jack giggled. He never knew what to do with compliments, it was quite adorable.

There was a noise of a door opening.

“Hi Robs,” Jack greeted, eyes not even raising up to acknowledge the visitor.

“Y'know, one day there will be a burglar getting inside and you won’t even do anything because you’ll think it’s just me,” Robin said.

Anti snorted.  “Then stop coming in out of nowhere.”

Robin shrugged, sitting down on the sofa armrest and looking down at them.

“Are you guys joined to the hip?”

“ _Fuck off, Robin_ ,” Jack and Anti said at the same time. Then giggled.

The man shook his head with a smile, then frowned. “Is there something in the oven?”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

He jumped out of his snuggle cot, running to the kitchen, making Anti yelp in the process.

“What would you do without me?” Robin called back, humour on his tone.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Have some peace, for once!”

He heard Anti snort. “I dunno about that one…”

“Hey!”

“He’s right,” Robin said.

Jack smiled, taking out dinner from the oven with gloves. He hummed in thought. _Would Anti be good at cooking?_ He decided to ask.

“ _Cholla_ ,” he called, and he could almost _hear_ the man rolling his eyes at the nickname, “do you cook?”

He got the plates and placed the food neatly on them.

“Not really,” Anti called from the living room, then, quieter, “not a fan of ovens.”

Jack paused. Maybe Anti was afraid of getting burned. He thought about the brand on Anti’s underarm. _Yeah, right._

“You’re lucky I’m an amazing cook,” Jack mused.

Robin snorted. “Don’t believe his lies.”

The three of them sat on the kitchen table, and got to eat in a comfortable silence. _Maybe all days can be like this_ , he thought with a smile, _maybe I can fix everything._

The next day, however, was a bit… weird.

Jack was watering down a few plants in the neighbourhood, as he always did. He made sure all of them were healthy, and blooming as much as they could. He gently strokes a green leaf, smiling softly, when he hears a sound behind him.

He turns around with a smile, thinking maybe it was someone from the neighbourhood, only to find a man with a red bandana around his neck, wearing filthy black pants and heavy boots, and smelling strongly of alcohol. He scrunched up his nose.

“Can I help you?” Jack asks, toughening his stance slightly, holding his watering bucket tighter on his hands.

The man’s eyes scrutinize his body up and down, and he hums.

“You could help me in many ways…”

Jack scowls. “If you’re here to look pathetic and sound stupid, you can leave. You do that well on your own.”

The red-bandana man huffs an ugly smile, then sneers, stepping closer to the florist. Jack holds his step as the man walks in a circle around him, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I see why boss likes you. I _really_ do,” he breathes on his neck. Jack shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath and staying still.

“What do you want?” He asks through gritted teeth.

He wraps an arm around his shoulder, jostling him close. Jack elbows him hard on his side. “Don’t touch me.” He hisses.

The man grunts under his gross breath, rubbing his side with a scowl.

“Fine,” he growls. “Listen. I don’t like you, and don’t know what kind of deal you’re havin' with boss. If it’s drugs, or bitches, or god knows. But I need to warn you of something, if you intend to keep hanging out with him.”

Jack raises his eyebrows curiously. “Spill it out, then.”

“Do you know about our former boss?”

Jack huffs. “The whole world knew about him.”

The man smirks. “He was sure something.” His eyes darken. “I don’t care if he tears your face or your ass open, but I don’t want him comin’ back and layin' it all on us.”

Jack frowns. “I don’t understand-”

“Do what you do, don’t talk about him.”

“About your boss? Why? He’s dead-”

The man steps closer, poking Jack’s chest accusingly.

“Do what you do, don’t even say his name. _Don’t talk about Dark._ ”

 

Anti put on his leather jacket and looked at the mirror on Jack’s room. He looked… better. His face looked fuller because of Jack’s food, and he definitely had been taking more showers than he used to. His eyes, though, looked empty. Dull. Like always.

He had to check up on the Pack, of course. Get out of his safe place, that he shared with the person he felt safe with, and trot down to shitty town. He sighed.

He drove down to the small warehouse the gang was staying in, and found the men chilling on the floor, some on the stairs. Maybe there were two or three more of them, or maybe four missing, who knew. He got inside with heavy steps, and announced his presence by clearing his throat.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” A man with black, straight hair falling over his eyes pronounced. Three or four more came close to pat Anti’s back approvingly.

He frowned, shrugging them off. “What’s up with you assholes now?”

They laughed. “No need to hide anymore, boss. We got you covered.”

“What?” He scowled.

“Digger saw it! You’re getting us a new pack bitch, aren’t you? You should’ve just told us!”

Anti paled. _Were they talking about Jack?_

Digger came through the shadows, smoking a cigarette with a smirk.

“I was strolling for a smoke and saw the two of ya. You guys should’ve seen it,” he said, words lisped due the ciggy between his lips. The man raised his thumb to his own neck. “Knife on the bitch's throat, fucking ‘im to silence , eh? Nice one.”

Anti’s stomach folded. _Oh, God. They saw them._ They saw them and interpreted it with their sick, twisted comprehension of reality.

He swallowed the burning feeling down his gut. “It’s not like that.”

A man with dark skin and hazel eyes behind him tsked. He had a scar across his nose that healed quite repulsively.

“He ain’t gonna share,” he told the others, receiving a collective groan in response.

“Fine,” Digger sighed, “you’re getting a private bitch, that’s fine. But we want one, too.”

“Yeah,” the black straight hair guy said, “those Patrol guys got some good meat on ‘em.”

Anti’s head spun with disgust. Sick _bastards._ They thought Anti would repeat history. Anti would never make anyone go through _half_ the things he had. _Never_.

He stomped his foot down, the sound echoing across the warehouse.

“Enough,” he muttered threateningly. All of them went dead quiet. “I won’t be _sharing_ Jack. I won’t be sharing _anyone_. Those guys are not yours to take, and you ain’t touching _none_ , am I understood?”

A pause. Then slow nods.

“If you want to fuck so badly, go to the nearest red-light place. At least the workers will get something out of it.”

Lucky, who was lurking around the corner, stepped out to the discussion with dark eyes. “Are you protecting them?”

Anti set his face in a neutral expression. “Things have changed. This gang has changed, since…” his voice cracked slightly.

His shoulders tensed. The men all took a step back.

“ _Since_ I’ve been in command. We don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Why not?” A man with blonde dirty beard dared to ask.

“ _Because I said no._ ” He growled, taking out his pocket knife and glaring at him.

Digger raised both hands up. “Okay, let’s calm down. We got it, boss. We got it, see?”

Anti glanced at him, and all of them had wide, scared eyes. He sighed, standing down. The men relaxed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid.”

They nodded.

Anti came back to Jack’s place torn. _What have I done?_ Jack could be in danger. _What if those assholes get to him? How could I have been so stupid?_ He opened the apartment door to find Jack sprawled out in the sofa wearing a baby pink jumper and white boxers. His scowl softened.

 _Ah, Jack,_ he thought, _you have no idea what you got yourself into._

“Anti?” Jack mumbled from where he was. A warm feeling spreading inside Anti’s chest at the sound.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly. The man seemed to have been sleeping.

“How was it there?”

 _Terrible_. “Could’ve been worse.”

Anti crouched down in front of the sofa, face leveled with his. Jack blinked sleepily at him, then rubbed his eyes, sitting up.

“Tired?” Anti asked, looking up at him.

Jack moved so he had one leg on either side of the green-haired man. Anti rested his arms on the man’s thighs.

“Long day,” he muttered, hand coming down to brush Anti’s curls out of his eyes.

He sighed. “Wanna go to bed?”

Jack smirked. Even in his most sleepy state, he could still look close to mischievous.

“If you want to,” he said, squirming a bit in place. Anti looked down the brown-haired man’s crotch gave him a wry smile.

He moved his hands to Jack’s hips, kneading them with his fingers, feeling up the man’s strong thighs. Jack sighed to his touch.

 _I can make you feel good,_ he thought to himself, _I can make you forget. It’s the least I can do._

He pulled the hem of Jack’s boxers down just enough to fish his half-hard cock out, and looked up.

“May I?” He whispered, searching his blue eyes. A nod.

He gave him a slow stroke, tip to base, and leaned down to give him a kitten lick. Jack shivered, getting harder by the minute. He wrapped his lips around the crown of his cock, lightly sucking, and holding the man’s waist.

Jack grabbed a few of his green locks, gently pushing his head down, and Anti swallowed around him until his nose touched Jack's light pubic hair. He paused for a second and breathed through his nose, slowly bobbing the man’s cock up and down, tasting him with his tongue, his throat making wet, choked sounds as he drooled a bit down his chin. He closed his eyes to focus on Jack’s pulsing, warm skin; under his fingers, around his lips, across his scalp.

 _You’re here,_ he thought as he quickened his pace, _no one will take you away from me._

He opened his eyes, looking up, blessed with the image in front of him. Jack had his head thrown back, half-lidded eyes unfocused, mouth agape as he panted softly, moaning under his breath, kneading Anti’s scalp, gently guiding his movements.

“ _Mmh_ , fuck… I’m gonna cum,” he croaked, hands tightening on his hair.

Anti made an approving sound, relaxing his jaw and closing his eyes. Jack fucked his mouth gently, but thoroughly, with long, lingering thrusts. His throat convulsed against his cock, and he sucked as much as he could until he felt Jack’s thighs tense, his whole body going stiff, moans escaping his pretty lips.

He came moaning Anti’s name, moving the green-haired man’s head a few more times to ride his orgasm out. Anti swallowed the warmth down his throat, gagging slightly. Jack then stopped, panting, and petted Anti’s hair tenderly.

Anti sighed, releasing Jack with a wet pop, lips shiny with drool and a bit of cum. He licked it off, humming at the taste. He looked up with parted lips, and smiled softly.

“You’re good at that,” Jack breathed. Anti huffed.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

And they did.

The next day was worse. He woke up tired, murmuring to Jack that he had to check up on the Pack again, much to the man’s discontent. He sighed, putting up his leather clothes— that now smelled like lavender and Jack’s perfume, but still— and left the house once again.

He strode into the warehouse with a tired expression, grimacing at the strong smell of cigarettes. _I hate this._

“Boss, do we have good news for you,” Digger announced. Anti tried not to gulp.

“What is it?”

“We’re having fun today,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion.

“What _kind_ of fun?”

Buzz-cut smirked. “We’re having a few drinks, some smokes. It’s been a while since you hung out with us.”

Anti opened his mouth to argue, but was shoved forward by a red-haired guy that seemed to have just appeared. He frowned, being practically forced to sit down in one of the stools they had near an improvised “bar” type of situation. Really, it was just a table with a fridge behind it, filled with alcohol.

“I don’t have time for this,” Anti said, starting to stand up, only to be pushed down again by a strong hand.

“We need some distraction, _boss_ ,” Lucky— who he  hadn’t even realized was there— purred on his ear, spitting the last word with venom, “are you abandoning us?”

Anti shivered. _Right_. He had to play his part, and swallow their bullshit down at this point, otherwise he’d be in a lot of trouble.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. But it was his only choice. The Pack was scared of him, but they could very well plan a mutiny at any moment, now that Anti was a bit “softened down”. _Having a breakdown, more like it._

His hellish day then began.

Drinks were shoved to him every 10 minutes, like he was some kind of lab rat. He swallowed all the bitterness down, one after another, grimacing at the taste. He smoked a cigarette or two, much to his distaste.

His breath stunk, his head spun. There was noise, laughter, glass breaking. He was shoved from one side to another, loosing his footing, being clapped on the back and pushed around. They got out of the warehouse to the nearest nightclub place as soon as the sun came down. Time seemed to have passed so fast, but it felt never-ending just the same.

The music was loud. The lights blinked fast, blinding him, making him dizzy. He was elbowed from one side to another, shouldered to the side, drinks shoved down his throat. His head pounded with the beat of the song, the Pack already lost in the crowd as everyone danced around him, his eyes glassy, hands covering his ears in a poor attempt of escape.

He looked around, stomach turning and stained lips, and stumbled, pushing anyone out of his way to the exit. His breath quickened. Too many people. Too much noise. _Noise, noise, noise. Stop. Stop!_

He closed the big metal door behind him, everything stopped. He gagged on his own saliva, then promptly threw up near a trashcan on the straight alleyway full of wasted bodies on the floor and fondling couples on the walls. He panted, spat roughly on the floor, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. _Fuck_.

He placed a hand on the cold cemented wall, it felt wet with something he didn’t want to think about. He looked up, squinting at the faint street light pole, vision blurry. He patted his pockets in hope of finding his phone, which thankfully hadn’t been stolen still. He clumsily tapped Jack’s contact picture— Him smiling with pink cheeks, a picture he had taken of him at work— and placed it on his ear.

The phone rang. _Come on, please._

“Anti?” Jack’s tired voice came from the device. He didn’t even know what time it was; Jack had probably been already asleep.

“ _Jack,_ ” he mumbled, “I need-” he gagged again, dropping his phone to the ground. His vision spun, then went black.

 

Jack banged Robin’s door. He was still on his pajama pants, a big jumper clumsily put over his frame. He gripped his phone on his hand, and ran his other through his hair in distress.

“Robin! Come on!” He called. The door opened.

“Wha' is it?!” Robin mumbled, his hair askew and a panicked look on his face.

“It’s Anti- he didn’t come back and-” he blurted, ragged breaths coming out in despaired wheezes.

“Get on my bike,” Robin said, getting his keys and closing the door.

Jack pinned Anti’s phone location on his GPS, and hugged Robin’s back tight on his bike. _Was Anti hurt? Why didn’t he come home? Was he alone?_

They got to a night club just out of town, and parked on a dirty, dark alleyway full of couples kissing each other and men passed out on the floor. One of those men had green hair.

“Anti!” He rushed to him, catching his dropped phone and putting it on his own pocket.

Robin crouched beside him, taking Anti on his arms and inspecting his face.

“He’s breathing. And he clearly threw up a lot. We need to take him home,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

Jack grimaced at the sight. Anti had deep bags under his eyes, his face pale. He stunk of cigarette and alcohol and vomit, his clothes dirty with… something or the other. He looked around, then helped Robin to get on his bike.

Driving a bike with three people was probably either a crime or suicide, but they didn’t care. They drove fast and got inside Jack’s place, Robin laying Anti on the sofa and getting up to grab a bucket, just in case.

Jack kneeled down beside the unconscious man, and touched his face hesitantly. _Not again._

He got to the bathroom and picked up a wet washcloth, cleaning Anti’s face gently, rubbing his neck, lips, ears. Touching his septum piercing that dripped with vomit leftovers. _God_.

Robin came back with a glass of water and a few aspirins, then sat down on the floor next to him. He pursed his lips.

“I think he was dragged there.”

Jack nodded. “He wouldn’t get wasted like that by good will.”

“Unless he was very upset,” Robin offered. Jack shook his head.

“I don’t think he did that by himself.”

They both sighed, and waited for the man to wake up.

Which he did, about 2 hours later, with a gagging sound. Robin quickly placed the bucket under Anti’s chin as he vomited whatever else that was staining his poor stomach.

Anti groaned, sounding pained, and furrowed his eyebrows in a grimace.

“ _Anti,_ ” Jack whispered as Robin patted the man’s head gently.

“ _Jack_?” Anti croaked, breath irregular.

“You’re okay now, see? It’s fine,” he reassured.

Anti looked at both of them with a lost expression. His pupils were blown wide, and his eyes were drooping.

Robin raised Anti’s chin delicately, bringing the glass of water to his lips. Anti made a noise of protest.

“C'mon buddy, you have to drink it,” Robin said quietly. The green-haired man relented.

He drank the water in big gulps, choking a bit and coughing, liquid going down his chin.

“Okay, you need a bath, c'mon,” Jack said, standing up and slowly pulling Anti by his armpits. He propped the man up by putting one of his arms around his own shoulders.

They stumbled to the bathroom, and the green-haired man is placed inside Jack’s small tub, next to the shower.

“I’ll leave you two. If you need anything, text me, yeah?” Robin said from the door.

Jack turned back, and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Robs.”

He turned back to Anti, who was staring dazedly forward. He sighed. _Okay, slowly._

Jack removed Anti’s jacket, then his shirt over his head. He did the same with the man’s boots, socks, then carefully undid his pants zipper.

“I need to take these off, is that okay?” He whispered, and waited patiently for Anti to process the question. He nodded lightly, not really paying attention.

The man squirmed clumsily so Jack could remove his pants and boxers, then he was completely naked. Except for his choker. Jack took a deep breath.

“Can I take this away?” He said gently, touching the man’s neck. Wide, green eyes darted up at him. Anti’s lips trembled.

“Am I getting a new one again?” He asked, eyes unfocused. Jack frowned. He didn’t know what he was talking about.

“No, love,” he said meekly, “I just have to clean it, I’ll give it back to you right back.”

Anti smiled numbly, then nodded with big, innocent eyes. Jack’s face crumbled.

“Okay,” he said shakily, unclipping the black garment and taking it off. Anti’s neck scar out to the world. He noticed the man shivering slightly.

He turned on the warm tap, Anti got startled, gripping Jack’s arm. Jack looked worriedly at him. He was drunk, but seemed to be in some kind of weird headspace, almost.

Jack shooshed him gently, reassuring he was safe. He spread soap all over the man’s body, careful not to linger too much, then washed it all down with a small showerhead. He cleaned Anti’s head with his own shampoo and conditioner, covering the man’s eyes as to the product not drip on them, then washed it all as well. Anti was very quiet, almost as if asleep, watching Jack’s movements with wide eyes, curled up and complaint.

He drained the tub, and searched his green eyes. “Are you okay?”

Anti tilted his head, almost like a confused puppy, and smiled a small smile. He didn’t answer.

Jack sighed, grabbing Anti’s towel— it was practically his, at this point— and helping him stand up. The man kept his head low as Jack dried him down.

He dressed him in his own boxers, light pajama pants and the pastel green jumper he liked so much. He dried his hair and brushed it to the side out of his face, then walked him to the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll get you more water,” he told him, Anti nodded quickly. He didn’t like this at all.

He got some water in the kitchen, and came back to the room to find Anti lightly brushing his fingers on his own neck, curled up in bed.

“Drink up,” Jack said, Anti’s whole body shivered for a second before obeying. He grimaced.

Anti drank the whole glass with big gulps, then looked at Jack expectantly, as if waiting for a next request. Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Get some rest, I’ll be right here,” he promised, flicking off the lights and getting under the blankets with him. Anti immediately cuddled up, before falling asleep.

Jack stayed awake the whole night.

In the next morning, Anti stirred against him groggily.

“Jack?” He mumbled, raising his head with a wince.

“I’m here,” Jack said, “how are you doing?”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck full of assholes.”

Jack giggled, then sighed in relief. It seemed that Anti was “back”.

“What happened yesterday? You didn’t come home…”

Anti grimaced. “They took me to a night out. I couldn’t really refuse.”

“Why not?”

“Jack, they’ll come after you,” Anti muttered, shoulders tense.

Jack frowned. “Why me?”

“Because they think- they saw-” Anti stuttered, “they’ll want to _take_ you.”

He pet Anti’s hair soothingly. “I’ll keep an eye out, okay?”

The green-haired man seemed to relax a little. “Okay.”

The entire next few days were tense. Anti looked miserable, anxious every time he left the house. Jack had to feed him himself so he wouldn’t just starve.

Jack was also wary. He told Robin about the possible threat, and they both kept their eye out.

The threat, however, came soon enough.

Jack was walking back home when suddenly there was a hand stained with nicotine over his mouth. _No. I won’t let this happen again._ He elbowed the attacker on their gut, freeing himself and turning around quickly in a defense stance.

Three men. The one with the red bandana around his neck that he talked with the other day, one with a buzzcut and angry eyebrows, and the third had pale, almost grey skin, and straight, black hair over his eyes.

“Now, now, no need to be so aggressive,” red-bandana said with a wry smile.

Jack set his jaw. “What do you want?”

“Our boss back,” buzzcut said, cracking his knuckles.

Jack gritted his teeth. “Over my dead body.”

A pause. The men all shrugged. “Whatever.”

The three of them pounced at once, knocking Jack over and pinning him down. The straight black-haired man straddled his waist, and landed a fist on his face. Jack choked as his nose stung.

He twisted his arm in such a way to release it from their grasp, and threw his fist back at one of the three faces above him.

“Motherfucker!” Buzzcut cursed, cradling his bloody face with both hands.

Jack rolled over, knocking two of them down, punching their faces like they were his own punching bag, his knuckles stinging at the impact against the men's skull.

Red-bandana kicked him in the gut, his vision blurring for a second before getting him back right in his crotch. The man _howled_.

Jack took the opportunity to knock buzzcut out, squeezing his throat with a hand and twisting his arm with the other, until the man dropped.

Straight-bangs got him in a headlock, choking him, and he wheezed. His face turned red as he clawed the man’s arm desperately. _Fuck. Fuck!_

In a quick decision, he opened his mouth and bit him, teeth sinking in his filthy skin, drawing blood, almost taking a _chunk_ out of him until he was released with a shout. He took a deep breath, taste of copper on his tongue.

He spat on the ground, turning back and kicking his attacker under him, knocking him down as the man cursed over his bloody arm. Jack kicked his face, then again, and _again_ , the man falling unconscious with a blown up nose.

Jack panted, his nose pulsing and bleeding. _I did it. I did it! I-_

_Slash._

A stabbing pain exploded on his side, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, his throat being squeezed.

“Got you,” the red-bandana man breathed on his ear, twisting his pocket knife inside Jack’s skin, dragging it sideways. His vision _burned_.

“ _Fuck!”_ He choked, head-butting back his attacker with full force. His vision spun. The man fell, taking the knife with him.

Jack sulked in a gulp of air, hands clutching at his bleeding gash. He turned back to see three man unconscious on the floor, and he ran.

 

Anti was resting on the sofa when the were heavy knocks at the door. He tensed. He stood up with shaky steps.

“ _Anti,_ ” he heard a pained wheeze. His heartbeat picked up.

He threw the door open, gasping loudly at the sight in front of him.

Jack was on his knees, with a black eye and busted nose, clutching his side, where his shirt was stained _red_. His eyes widened.

“Jack! W-What-!” He stuttered, carrying the wounded man inside and laying him carefully on the floor.

“Anti,” Jack breathed, “t-there's a first-aid kit u-under the sink.”

Anti was frozen in place. _Oh, God. They got him. They were going to kill him. It’s all my fault. Fuck. Fuck!_

“ _Anti!”_ Jack shouted, dragging him out from his thoughts. “Focus!”

Anti ran to the bathroom, knocking a few things over the sink, and getting the first-aid box before coming right back.

He took a deep breath. _Okay. You’ve dealt with stab wounds on yourself. You can do this. Oh, God._

Jack’s chest moved quickly as he panted, removing his own shirt with a pained groan. His whole abdomen spasming.

Anti got a piece of gauze and dunked it in alcohol, dabbing Jack’s wound sharply. Jack hissed.

He cleaned up the seeping blood, and got a needle and some stitches. He bit his lip, looking up.

“This is gonna suck,” he warned, rubbing the needle with alcohol as well. Jack moaned in pain, breaths becoming quite shallow.

“Just be quick, please,” he croaked.

Anti nodded. He sulks in a breath and with steady, practiced hands, pierces Jack’s skin, stitching his skin together. The gash was long, but thankfully not that deep. The wound probably made with a pocket knife. _Fucking assholes._

He closed off Jack’s injury, dabbing it with alcohol one more time, then wrapping it with clean gauze, all around his torso and a tight knot. Jack’s breathing had slowed down, his eyes fluttered closed.

“Call Robin,” he mumbled from the ground.

He took Jack’s phone from his pocket— the screen was cracked— and quickly tapped Robin’s photo.

“Robin,” he called as soon as the man picked up.

“Wha- Anti?” Robin said.

“Yeah, it’s me, uh- can you come here?”

“In a second,” he said, and put the phone down.

In a matter of minutes, Robin came in through the door, eyes widening upon seeing his friend on the floor stained red.

“What happened?! Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Anti cut in, “I stitched him together. He was attacked.”

“By who?” Robin asked kneeling down to Jack’s level.

Anti’s face crumbled. “The Pack.”

Robin glanced at him with an unreadable face, then back at Jack.

“Jack,” he called softly, “I’m gonna move you, okay?” The man nodded.

Robin carefully and oh so gently picked him up with an arm around his back and another under his legs, and laid him delicately on the sofa, a pillow under his head and one under his back.

“There you go, get comfy,” he told Jack, and the man closed his eyes, frame relaxing slightly. He falls asleep.

There’s a moment of silence.

“What are you going to do?” Robin muttered. Anti sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.”

 

Jack wakes up with a dull pain on his side. _Right. Take it slow._ He takes a deep breath, and opens his eyes. Green eyes are looking back at him. He smiles.

“ _Cholla,_ ” he whispers. The man smiles back.

“Hey, flower boy,” he greets softly. “How are you doing?”

“Not the worst,” he says, “definitely not my best look though, is it?” He asks, gesturing at himself.

Anti gives him a sympathetic look. “You look great.”

Jack huffs. “Why thank you.”

They look at each other with solemn expressions.

“I’m sorry,” Anti says, his eyes darting away.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s always my fault.”

Jack raises his hands and cups Anti’s face, raising the man’s eyes to look at him.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?”

Anti nods, leaning down to meet his lips. They kiss, nice and slow, tongues brushing together, dry lips making wet sounds in the room. Jack tilts Anti’s head lightly to deepen the gesture, and they sigh.

A clearing of throat makes them part.

“Feeling better, I reckon,” Robin mused, carrying a glass of water and some pain tablets.

Jack smiles. “A little.”

Robin walks up to them, and Jack takes the pills gratefully. The pain on his side giving him a headache.

He glances at Anti, who’s pulling his jumper up to cover his neck distractedly. He wasn’t wearing his choker, and maybe Robin’s presence was a bit much for him. He wondered about that scar again.

“Anti,” he said gently. The green-haired man looked up. “Your-um. Your…” he trailed off, gesturing at his own neck.

Anti’s eyes widened. He scrambled out of the room quickly with a rushed “be right back!”.

Robin raised his eyebrows. “What happened to his neck?” He whispered.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Anti came back with a shy smile, and brought a bag of popcorn with him. It smelled delicious.

“Are we watching a movie?” Jack asked, sitting up slowly with a wince. Robin propped pillows up so he’d be comfortable.

Anti grins. “Hell yes we are.”

Robin chuckled. “Am I invited?”

The green-haired man nodded. “Get comfy.”

And they did. Robin flicked off the lights and got on one side of Jack, Anti sat carefully on the other. The three of them ready to start a movie.

For a moment, they had no problems, no wounds, no forbidden secrets. Just three friends, snuggled up in blankets. And as the movie started, all questions melted away, all doubts clouded over their minds.

Jack sighed, letting the pain on his side remind him that he’s alive, and he doesn’t feel empty anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it, see you in the next one!
> 
>  
> 
> [Hit me up on Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/plutosin)
> 
> [The "Constance" rosebush.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosa_%27Constance_Spry%27)  
> [Flower Meanings Reference.](http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm)
> 
>  
> 
> [Pinterest Board.](https://br.pinterest.com/trashcansasha/soft-boys-in-leather-jackets/)
> 
> Cute aesthetic by [hsintl](https://hsintl.tumblr.com/post/177639276686/i-hate-slash-love-this-i-love-the-aesthetic-but)
> 
>  [Sasha's](trashcansasha.tumblr.com) drawing!: |[1](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/179262991431/kinktober-18-knife-play)| |[2](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/185224173728/cough)|
> 
> A quote from my partner in crime, about this shot: _"I'M SUFFERING, FUCK OFF."_


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